


Harlequin

by RoseThornhill



Series: The X-Files: Season 12 [5]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case Fic, Clowns, F/M, Horror, MSR, Monster of the Week, Post-Canon, motw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseThornhill/pseuds/RoseThornhill
Summary: Are clowns haunting Mulder and Scully, or is Mulder's darkness coming back?





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> This is Episode Five. To start at the beginning, read [ Episode One first!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700824/chapters/49172258)

FARR’S CORNER, VIRGINIA

SEPTEMBER 9

"Mulder!"

"What?" he asked with feigned innocence. 

"I see what you are doing. Feeding Daggoo your leftovers."

Mulder scooped the mutt off the floor. "You look at this face. Can you say no to him?"

Scully shook her head with a smile. "Our daughter is going to be the most spoiled little girl..." she muttered under her breath. "Thai food isn't good for him. The spice will upset his stomach. And you will have to clean up after him."

Mulder set the dog down in a sign of surrender. "Ok, ok. You win." He looked at her suspiciously. "You just want my leftovers, don't you?"

Scully grabbed his takeout container with a mischievous grin. "I'm eating for two now!"

Mulder started clearing the table, stopping by Scully to give her a kiss on the head. "I take it back," she said. "This never would have given the dog a stomach ache. Is it possible that they _ removed _spice from this?" He smiled good-naturedly, and continued cleaning up while she finished eating.

"You want to watch some TV?" he asked.

"No, I think I'm just going to go straight to bed." She came up behind him and put her dishes in the sink. Mulder wrapped her up in his arms. 

"You want some... company in that bed?"

She raised one eyebrow suggestively and lightly traced her fingers down his arms. "Always," she murmured. She giggled as she felt his erection grow against her protruding belly, and he kissed her.

"Let me finish cleaning up, then I will be right there."

"Now _ that's _a turn-on." She slipped in one more kiss before heading upstairs. 

Alone in the kitchen, Mulder tried to focus on cleaning, but his mind kept drifting to Scully, laid out in bed, hopefully naked, with beautiful new curves that seemed to appear every day. Curves he loved exploring every inch of.

A movement through the window caught his eye. The motion lights turned on, which was not uncommon. Between Daggoo, squirrels, possums, and the occasional deer, something was always setting off the lights. But this was enough to make him stop washing dishes; enough to make him stop fantasizing about the gorgeous woman waiting for him upstairs.

There was a man standing in their backyard. Not just a man; a _ clown _. Big shoes, brightly-colored oversized clothes, white face paint, and a shock of red hair. Mulder had never been a fan of clowns, but he had never been particularly scared of them. Until right now. 

Mulder was transfixed. He knew he should go out there with his badge and gun and scare the punk away. But he just stood there, looking at this menacing figure. He didn't want to admit it, but there was something terrifying and unwholesome about a clown, standing alone, against the backdrop of the woods, in the middle of the night. Mulder was reminded of an old quote from Lon Chaney: “There’s nothing funny about a clown at midnight.” He shuddered and watched the clown, who stood there perfectly still, seemingly staring right at Mulder. He was so still that Mulder wondered if it was maybe just a mannequin. This thought relaxed him, but then he saw the clown blink, and Mulder shivered. Eventually the light shut off, and Mulder recovered from his trance.

He grabbed his gun and went outside to confront the clown - but he was gone. Mulder circled the entire perimeter of the house twice, but could not find the clown, or any evidence he had been there. Mystified, Mulder went back inside. A bout of paranoia sent him to check the house, just in case the clown was hiding somewhere inside. He wasn't. After double checking that all the doors and windows were locked, and making sure the alarm was set, Mulder finally went to bed.

Scully had fallen asleep waiting for him. Mulder checked his watch. He had been downstairs for a half-hour. _ Damn, _ he thought, admiring her sleeping form draped in a silk nightgown. _ Maybe tomorrow _. He pulled the blanket over her and gave her a kiss on the forehead before settling down into his side of the bed with a book. Mulder noticed Daggoo sitting expectantly beside the bed. The dog knew what it meant when Scully fell asleep first. "Come here, stinker," Mulder said, patting the bed. Daggoo jumped into bed and curled up peacefully in Mulder's arm. "Eventually Scully will not be able to live without you in the bed," he whispered to the pup.

* * *

  
OPENING CREDITS

* * *

Morning. Scully woke with a smile. She fell asleep before Mulder made it to bed (something that happened more frequently as of late), but woke up in his arms. She felt something wet on her forehead. Craning her head up, she saw Daggoo above her head, giving her morning kisses. She sighed. “Mulder let you on the bed again, huh?” She squirmed out of Mulder’s arms enough to collect Daggoo and snuggled back against Mulder. “You know this can’t happen all the time, right?” she whispered to the dog as she scratched him behind the ear. He gave her a sweet, doubting look, as if to say, “Yeah, right.” 

Scully luxuriated in the warmth and love of her man and her dog for a few more minutes before she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Daggoo made himself at home in the warm spot Scully left behind.

The morning went as normal for Mulder and Scully. They rushed around, getting dressed, making coffee, taking care of Daggoo. While Mulder kept his eyes open every time he passed by a window in the house, he didn’t get a chance to tell Scully about what kept him from her until they were on their way to Quantico.

“Clowns?” Scully asked, incredulous after he told her the tale.

“No, not clown_ s _ . Just _ a _clown. Singular.”

“And he just stood there.”

“Weird, right?”

Scully couldn’t wrap her mind around Mulder’s story. “He didn’t need help. He didn’t try to rob us. He didn’t drag you into his underground lair in the sewer. Did he at least do a jaunty jig?”

Mulder smiled wryly. “I didn’t even get a balloon.”

“Well, it was probably just some dumb prank,” Scully reasoned. "Or maybe your imagination. Or Juggalos. They are still listed on the FBI's gang list."

"Nah, this wasn't a Juggalo. I don't know why Juggalos are still considered a gang. They are just meth heads with a strong sense of community." Mulder was happy to dismiss this incident as a prank. The rest of the ride in to work was spent discussing boring domestic topics.

* * *

FBI TRAINING ACADEMY

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

SEPTEMBER 10

“Most murderers have a ‘signature,’ something that links their murders together, and then back to the unsub,” Mulder told his cadets during his first class of the day. “For example, Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims were all young gay men, lured to his home with the promise of sex and drugs. Most were murdered by strangulation, and I think we all remember what Dahmer was most known for.” This got a few nervous smiles from Mulder’s young students. It wasn’t said for laughs, but Mulder knew that this subject matter made people uneasy, so he didn’t reprimand the class. Instead, he asked students of other serial killer signatures they were aware of.

“John Wayne Gacy killed people while he was dressed as a clown,” one pupil offered. Mulder froze for a moment and scanned the room, certain he would find a red-haired, white-faced harlequin skulking in the back. Instead, he just found a class full of eager students, waiting for him to speak. Mulder shook himself out of his reverie and refocused.

“Actually, Gacy never killed while dressed as a clown,” Mulder explained. “He created his character Pogo the Clown as a way to recapture his youth after a childhood of abuse at the hands of his father. Pogo performed at birthday parties, at children’s hospitals, and at charitable events, but he never, ever killed. Interestingly, Pogo's face paint had sharp corners, unlike the rounded corners that professional clowns usually employ so as not to scare children.” This was apparently news to his students, as Mulder saw them all scribbling furiously in their notebooks. So, he continued on Gacy.

“However, Gacy’s victimology was very similar to Dahmer’s. He chose young gay men, lured them to his home, and killed them via strangulation or asphyxiation. Strangulation is actually a common form of murder, especially in sexually motivated killings.” As strange as it seemed, Mulder relaxed as he continued his lecture on victimology. He was no longer thinking of clowns; just regular, horrifying murderers.

As Mulder was discussing the signature of Richard Ramirez, he saw something that made him freeze. A clown, in the back of the room. The same one he saw staring at him the night before. Keeping one eye on the clown while the other flicked to check the clock, Mulder dismissed his class a few minutes early in order to pursue the clown. Unfortunately, in the commotion of students leaving the classroom, Mulder lost sight of him. By the time he made his way to the back of the class, there was no sign of the clown.

"Did you see a clown back here?" he asked a student. “Red hair, white face…? Scary looking.” The student just shrugged and shook her head. Mulder peeked down the hallway, but saw no sign of a clown. With a sigh, he collected his things and headed down to his favorite scary redhead's office.

* * *

Mulder didn't have any further encounters with clowns throughout the day. He also did not mention John Wayne Gacy in any of his other classes, so he started to think that maybe Scully was right; maybe this was part of his overactive imagination.

He read a boring spy novel while he waited for Scully to finish her final class. She was exhausted by the end of the day, and Mulder idly wondered how much longer she would last before giving in and taking maternity leave. _ Hopefully before the first contraction starts. _She fell asleep in the passenger seat before they hit the freeway. 

Mulder was jamming out to some David Bowie when a sight on the side of the road made him slow down and double back. _ That goddamn clown is back! _Mulder noticed he had a balloon this time, but didn't notice that his hair was green and his face paint was different. He looked over at Scully, trying to decide if he should wake her or not. He decided to risk it.

"Scully, look! The clown is back!" 

"Are we home already?" she asked sleepily, looking around.

"No, but I saw him again, by the side of the road."

"Where?"

"Right over...." His voice trailed off as he realized the clown was no longer there. Mulder sighed and started driving again. "He was there, I swear!"

"Mulder... I'm starting to worry about you," she said, the sleepiness replaced with genuine concern. 

Mulder pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a rundown strip mall, determined to find this phantom clown and prove he was not crazy. He found outsized footprints but no clown. Scully came up behind him and tugged on his sleeve. She pointed up, and he saw a green balloon floating away.

"See? I told you! I saw a clown!"

"Mulder, it's just a balloon. A child could have lost it."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Feels like old times..." he grumbled as he headed back to the car.

As they drove away, Scully addressed her concerns for Mulder once again. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?" He was grouchy that he was unable to convince Scully that what he was seeing was real. This wasn't alien life or intergalactic spaceships. This was a _ clown _. Something terrestrial, something real. He didn't like that they were sliding back into their old X-Files roles.

"I just... I don't want you falling back into your old... habits," Scully said, choosing her words carefully.

"This isn't some ghost or mythical cryptid, Scully. This is something very real. I don't understand why you won't believe me on this."

Scully felt bad. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I guess I was falling into old habits, too."

Mulder felt bad, too. He didn't mean to be so abrupt with her. "I'm sorry, too," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "It just feels like... we should have moved past this.”

“Old habits die hard,” Scully said, returning the kiss. One thing had not changed: they could never stay mad at each other for long.

* * *

That night, Mulder couldn't sleep. He tried reading (couldn't focus). He tried watching an old monster movie (it was boring). He tried playing with Daggoo (who wasn't having it; he wanted to sleep). He even tried having a glass of warm milk (it was gross). He did everything he could think of to avoid retreating to his office. Some time around 4am, he gave up. 

He sat down and started researching clowns.


	2. Act Two

When Scully woke, she found the bed empty. Downstairs, she discovered what she was afraid she would find: Mulder neck deep in research.

"Did you stay up all night doing this?" she asked, afraid of the answer. To Scully's surprise - and relief - he turned his gaze from his work to her. He looked her in the eye. He even got up and gave her a good morning kiss.

"I couldn't sleep," he offered simply. "But I found out some fascinating things about clowns. Let's get ready for work; I'll tell you all about it on the drive in."

Scully looked him in the eye for a full minute. Mulder knew what she was doing, and waited patiently. "No darkness in there," she concluded. There was a mix of pride and comfort in her voice.

"Nope."

She smiled at him and gave him a kiss. 

* * *

"So clowns were never originally created to be evil or villainous," Mulder told her when they were on the road. "Joseph Grimaldi was the father of modern clowning, the first to don white face paint and brightly colored hair.

"Grimaldi used to joke that he was GRIM ALL DAY, but made his audience laugh all night. He didn't keep his sad home life a secret from audiences," Mulder explained. “His father was abusive. He suffered from depression and his antics caused him to live in constant pain. His wife died in childbirth and his son, also a clown, drank himself to death by age thirty-one. Dickens actually based the clown in  _ The Pickwick Papers  _ on Grimaldi's son, and is thought to be the first example of the 'scary clown.'" Scully said nothing, so Mulder continued.

“While Grimaldi was a superstar in Britain, he had a French counterpart: Pierrot, a character created by Jean-Gaspard Deburau. But Deburau was an actual evil clown. When a young boy shouted insults at him, Deburau killed him by beating him to death with his walking stick.”

This stunned Scully. “Geez, I never realized there were any truly evil clowns. Well, except for John Wayne Gacy.” Mulder sucked in a breath, ready to  _ politely  _ disavow Scully of the idea that Gacy was anything other than just plain evil. Then he noticed the wry smile on her face and he smiled back. She was just teasing him. She knew how annoyed he got when people misconstrued  _ modus operandi _ . 

“After that, the circus became a thing, clowns moved into that arena, and their antics became bigger and crazier. Then there was  _ Pagliacci _ , and Emmett Kelly—“

“I know that one!” Scully interrupted excitedly. “The hobo clown, right?”

“Ding ding ding!” Mulder joked. “He was the first celebrity American clown, whose sad ‘Weary Willie’ character was born out of the breakup of his marriage and the Great Depression.”

“This is all very interesting Mulder... but I remember Bozo and Clarabell from my childhood. They were certainly not menacing in any way.”

Mulder got excited at this point. “Right! In the 1950s and 1960s, clowns kind of had a heyday in America. They were seen purely as children’s entertainment. Funny, silly, harmless. But whenever something seems entirely too pure, things get  _ impure _ ....” His voice became comically dark, and Scully couldn’t help but laugh. “What do most filmmakers and authors do when they are looking for something to scare their audience? They take something pure... and make it impure. Pennywise, The Joker in  _ Batman _ , the clown toy in  _ Poltergeist _ ... the Killer Klowns from  _ Killer Klowns from Outer Space _ . Though Gacy never killed as a clown, just the idea that a man arrested for raping and murdering children was in a position to be around children caused panic. And Gacy sure didn’t shy away from that. He told investigators that ‘a clown can get away with murder.’”

"That's fascinating, Mulder... but what does this have to do with a phantom clown today?" She paused for a minute. "Do you think you saw the ghost of Grimaldi the other day?"

"No, Grimaldi had blue hair, not red," Mulder responded seriously. Scully rolled her eyes, and Mulder brought this history lesson back around to his point. “In the last few years, there have been reports of people dressing as evil clowns, just standing in neighborhoods. Standing. And staring.”

Scully failed to see the point. “And...?”

Mulder sighed. “And... I think these are just pranksters, having a bit of fun, scaring the devastatingly good-looking hermits in their middle-of-nowhere house.”

“So there is nothing spooky going on here? That was quite a diatribe to go through... all to say we don’t have anything to worry about.”

“It was a fun tale,” Mulder defended himself. “Besides, it took your mind off the drive.” Scully just noticed that they had arrived at Quantico.

“Well, it did keep me occupied,” she admitted. “But you have some young minds to shape, and I have some minds to cut open.” She gave him a kiss goodbye and hurried off to her class. Mulder couldn’t help but admire her form as she walked away.

* * *

"Scully." She answered her phone absentmindedly while looking through test papers.

"Hi Scully."

She stopped grading papers when she recognized the voice of Walter Skinner on the line. "Hello sir! How are you?"

"Oh, fine. How are you? How is the pregnancy?"

Scully's hand went to her belly. "No complaints. Easier than last time."

Skinner laughed nervously. "So Mulder is... doing okay? With the whole pregnancy thing?"

Scully was instantly suspicious. "Sir, I suspect you are not just calling to chitchat."

He sighed. "No, not entirely." A beat. "I wanted to know what Mulder's frame of mind is right now. I would like to ask him to consult on a case. Do you think he would?”

“You would have to ask him, sir.”

“Would it... upset you? Or the life you have together?”

Scully knew what he was hinting at. He couldn’t - or wouldn’t - ask flat-out, so she decided to fill in the blanks for him. “Mulder has his obsessions in check. In fact, he’s actually doing very well.” She couldn’t help but smile when she remembered him abandoning his research this morning, all because she walked in the room. “May I ask what the case is?”

“A series of homicides. We are having a hell of a time coming up with a profile. No clear motive, no specific victim type, no connection between the victims.”

“So there isn’t anything particularly... X-File-y about this case?” Scully was surprised by this. More than that, she was surprised at how disappointed she was by this.

“Nope. We just want Mulder’s brilliant profiler brain.”

“Ask him like that, and he will be yours.”

* * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

SEPTEMBER 12

Mulder was surprised at how excited he was to join Skinner’s task force. He missed the excitement and challenge of field work. He vowed not to get  _ too  _ involved. He remembered the last time, the darkness that had driven Scully away. He was never going to let that happen again.

Skinner filled Mulder in on the details. Four homicides with no apparent connective victimology. Two white men - one young and straight, the other older and gay; a middle-aged black woman; and a young Hispanic male. All were single, of different socio-economic backgrounds, spread out across D.C. and the surrounding environs. Three were stabbed; one was choked; none were sexually assaulted. 

The only similar trait they all shared was a crude happy face carved into the flesh.

Mulder spent his first two days on the task force simply poring over the police reports and crime scene photos. He was looking for connections - connections which he was starting to think weren't there. The victims didn’t seem to know one another, nor did they frequent any of the same businesses. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the location of the murders. Some were killed in public; others at home. About the only thing Mulder was able to piece together was that there were at least two murderers. The different angles of the stabbed victims indicated it. But there was no DNA left behind, so that was about all he could prove.

It was starting to look like these Happy Face Murders - as they had been dubbed among the task force - were a product of thrill killers. This would make tracking them down nearly impossible. Thrill killers had no motive other than to kill. In all likelihood, they wouldn’t be caught until they made a mistake.

* * *

SEPTEMBER 15

"So how's the case going?" Scully asked one night over dinner.

Mulder sighed. He had been trying to keep his frustration with the case at work. But Scully asked, so he was going to tell.

"It sucks. It's suck incarnate," he grumbled. He knew he sounded like a child, but he didn't care. Now that Scully had opened the floodgate, it was all pouring out. "There is nothing to connect the murders. The victims have absolutely nothing in common. These are random thrill-kills. Impossible to predict, impossible to stop. Until there are more victims." Realizing he was getting aggravated, he put his head in his hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. In doing so, he missed an almost imperceptible grimace that crossed Scully's face.

"Mulder. Look at me." Her voice was stern, but her hand on his was gentle. Even still, Mulder brushed her hand away.

"I'm not getting obsessive, Scully! The darkness isn’t creeping in! I'm just frustrated!" 

Scully didn't take kindly to this charge. "Someone has to make sure you don't go over the edge. Again." Her serious tone held razor-sharp accusations. 

"While we are talking about health... let's talk about maternity leave," Mulder challenged, desperate to change the subject. "When are you taking it?"

Scully returned his fiery gaze. "I will take maternity leave when I feel ready. What does it matter to you? You want me to sit around and keep house?"

Mulder knew they were falling down a slippery slope, but he couldn't stop himself. "No. But you should take care of yourself - and our baby. It's my baby, too. Isn't it?" Mulder knew he had gone too far.

Scully stood. Her voice was like ice; a tone Mulder had only heard her use against suspects in the past. "I managed the first time on my own. I can do it again." With that, she marched upstairs. Mulder heard her slam the bedroom door.   
  



	3. Act Three

Under normal circumstances, Mulder would have rushed after her, apologizing the whole way, explaining that he was really just upset with himself and was misdirecting his anger. Instead, he sat and stewed. Until a movement caught his eye through the window. The clown. Mulder channeled his anger into the clown.

Weapon in hand, he raced out the backdoor, yelling at the clown. "FBI, freeze!" he called, remembering procedure even in his agitated state. The clown turned and ran, disappearing into the dense tree line. Mulder followed as far as he could, but it didn't take long before he lost track of the clown. It was dark, and for the first time, Mulder didn't have a flashlight on him. He stopped and listened, but all he heard was the breeze rustling through the autumn trees.

Mulder looked around, realizing that he was dangerously close to getting lost out here in the woods. There was a sudden tightness in his chest. He replayed the horrible fight with Scully in his head, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He didn't know what caused him to say the spiteful things he said to her. Maybe he _ was _getting obsessive. He gave up his pursuit of the clown in favor of apologizing to Scully and begging her forgiveness.

He knocked gently on the bedroom door. She consented to him entering, and he could hear a slight whimper in her voice. She was curled up in bed, facing away from the door, and made no attempt to face him. He sat gingerly beside her; she did not pull away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what got into me. I am frustrated with work; hell, maybe I am getting too close to this case. Either way, there is no excuse for the things I said."

"I'm sorry, too," Scully sniffled. "I shouldn't assume every problem in your life means your old obsessions are back. You are entitled to normal human emotions." He rubbed her back, a truce settling between them. She rolled over. But Scully wasn't done apologizing. "And I'm sorry about what I said about... obviously I _ couldn't _handle it..."

He quieted her with a kiss, gentle and sweet. "You have _ nothing _to apologize for. I will tell you this until the day I die."

She looked tired, so Mulder held her, stroking her hair as she relaxed in his arms. The tender actions said what words could never convey.

She felt tired. Before she could fall asleep, Scully made a decision. "I'm going to cut down my hours at Quantico," she said. "_ Not _maternity leave. But maybe just... easing into it."

* * *

Her first day of _ not _maternity leave was hard on Scully, the workaholic, but it was harder on Mulder, who had to drive to work without her. She was still asleep when he left, but he left Daggoo in his place in bed, and lunch in the fridge. He couldn't resist giving her a kiss on the head before he left. She didn't stir. 

The long drive into the city consisted of Mulder fumbling impatiently between a science-fiction audio book, a comedy podcast, and the news. He couldn't focus, so he settled on the classic rock station. He missed conversing with Scully, but at least the music calmed his unfocused mind.

It still felt weird to him to enter the Hoover building and not go into the basement. Instead, he went to the briefing room on the 5th floor that had been designated the headquarters for the Happy Face Murders case. He was the first agent there, a regular occurrence since Scully always had an early class at Quantico. Normally he enjoyed the quiet time alone, but now, it just felt lonely.

Luckily, Skinner popped in. "Mulder. Glad to see you are here early," he said. His words were benevolent, but Mulder could read what his tone meant beneath the words: _ Glad to see someone still keeps traditional work hours. _"Unfortunately, we have a new victim."

He tossed a case file on Mulder's desk. Mulder took a long sip of coffee before making a move towards the file. Skinner sensed his apprehension and tried to flatter him. "I know this case is tough, Mulder. But I wouldn't have brought you in if I didn't think that you were the only one who could crack the case."

Mulder smiled weakly and watched Skinner leave. Another sip of coffee, then he finally opened up the case file. Victim #5 was a middle-aged Korean woman who was closing up the laundromat she worked at. She was stabbed over two dozen times - a clear sign of escalation. The killer was becoming emboldened. 

A deeper reading of the file revealed that the body had been found a week ago. The happy face etched into the victim's abdomen was almost invisible beneath the multiple stab wounds. It took the police nearly a week to even figure out this case belonged with this task force.

Mulder could feel his frustration with this case rising again. But the final photo in the file made his blood run cold. It was a photo of the exterior of the murder scene. The laundromat. Located in a dingy strip mall.

The same one Mulder saw the clown in front of.

His mind was racing now as the pieces fell into place. He spread out the other case photos around him. It was hard to see, but he could see evidence of oversized shoe prints at at least one other crime scene - maybe two. He tumbled through the possibilities, but always came back to one thing: the clowns were posted outside each crime scene. Maybe they alerted other participants of the activities going on inside. Maybe the clowns were lookouts, or used as distractions for would-be interlopers. Either way, Mulder was certain that the clowns were what they could use to track the killers.

Suddenly his mind - his whole body - froze. Scully was home. Alone. Where he had twice seen a clown lurking. Fear gripped his chest. He took a few deep breaths to steady his heart rate, and called home.

No answer. 

He swallowed down his panic and called again. 

"Hullo...?" Scully's voice came through, still heavy with sleep. 

"Scully, hey, it's me," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "You wanna come grab some lunch?"

She squinted at the clock. "Mulder, it's not even breakfast yet."

_ Oh, right. _ "Well... I left some files at home. I thought maybe I could entice you to bring them down with the promise of lunch." His knee bounced uncontrollably under the desk.

"Um, yeah, I can do that."

"Can you bring them now?"

Scully couldn't miss the note of agitation in his voice. "Mulder, what's going on?"

He weighed his options before deciding on the truth. "The clowns. They are tied to the murder cases I have been investigating. I need you to leave the house, right now. I'll explain when you get here."

She decided not to question him and his clowns right now. He had evidence, and there was an urgency in his voice she couldn't ignore. "Okay. I just have to--"

"Scully." His voice was frighteningly serious. "Don't worry about any of that. Just come to the office. Please." She agreed. As soon as she hung up the phone, she tossed a few necessities into a bag, grabbed Daggoo, and headed into D.C.

* * *

Scully had barely entered the Hoover Building before Mulder appeared and wrapped her in a tight bear hug. "Mulder, what is going on?" He led her up to the office, pulled out the evidence, and the case started to unfold.

"We've suspected that these were 'thrill kills,'" Mulder explained. "There has been evidence of multiple killers, but with no DNA and no pattern to the kills, we couldn't predict who the next victim might be. But look at this." He showed Scully the photo of the laundromat, and the barely-visible footprints at another crime scene. "I think that clown that we saw - well, that _ I _saw - was a signal. A sign to other 'partiers' that that was where the night's event was taking place."

"So find the clown..." 

"...find the killers."

Scully pondered this a minute. "Then why did I need to leave home?"

"Remember that clown I saw a week ago? And a few days ago, when we had that fight... he was back. Once I made the connection, I was afraid the killers were stalking us. I didn't want to take any chances."

She smiled at him adoringly. Any annoyance she felt at being woken was gone. "So what now?"

"Well, we still don't have any way of predicting where the Happy Face Killers will strike next. We've put BOLOs out all along the Eastern Seaboard. From Maine down to South Carolina. Unfortunately, now it's just a waiting game."

Scully nodded. The silence settled between them uncomfortably. "Wanna go make out in our old office?"

* * *

The day crept by. Scully napped. Mulder did some research on Juggalos just in case. At lunch, they took Daggoo on a long walk, then grabbed a quick bite at a nearby bistro. Mulder had a tuna melt. Scully had an omelet. Daggoo had a burger, no bun. 

When they returned to the Bureau, Scully helped Mulder sift through reports coming in from all over the place. Most were birthday clowns. A few were Juggalos who weren't doing anything illegal. Two were actors on their way to a gig.

Towards the end of the day, Mulder got a call from Baltimore PD. 

"Hey Scully. Wanna go on a field trip?"

* * *

BALTIMORE POLICE DEPARTMENT

SEPTEMBER 16

Mulder sat down in front of the clown in the interrogation room. The clown, Jay Rogers, was only eighteen years old, and he looked scared shitless. Mulder would have felt bad for him if he weren’t dressed as this tragic joker. His greasepaint was smeared due to a combination of tears and sweat. It somehow made him look scarier than his trembling voice allowed.

“Mr. Rogers - is it okay if I call you Jay?” The kid responded to Mulder with an anxious nod. “Jay. I can tell you are scared. Right now, we have nothing to hold you on. All you were doing was standing around outside, in a silly costume. There is nothing illegal about that. But,” Mulder’s tone took on a more serious edge as he continued, “we _ can _ charge you with accessory to murder. You seem like a nice kid. You probably want to go to college, get a good job, start a family…” Jay nodded vigorously. “And you probably got caught up with a group of kids who you thought were fun, but things just escalated quickly. You didn’t know how to extricate yourself from this situation. I understand that. I was young once. But you can get out of it now. You just have to give us all the details about your little… clown gang, and we can get you home for dinner.”

Jay nodded and took a deep breath. “It was my first time at one of these… gatherings. Newbies always have to start outside.”

“Dressed as a clown.”

“Yeah. Only the lookout had to dress like a clown. Everyone else could dress normally.”

“So you were a lookout.”

“Yeah, and also… like… you know how balloons are like an international sign for ‘there’s a party going on in here’? Yeah, this was, like, a spoof on that.” The boy took another deep breath. “My buddy Devin told me about these guys. He said it’s like a fraternity. You do pranks and stuff and then you get into the group and it’s all, like, girls and beer and parties and stuff.”

“So you started with pranks,” Mulder encouraged.

“Yeah, stupid stuff like hiding tuna in air vents or pantsing other potentials,” Jay said with a shrug. “Harmless shit.”

“And then…?”

“They had a point system. Some website they set up… I should have known it was bad… the website was on the dark web….” Mulder waited patiently for the kid to gather his wits and continue. “So when you had enough points - I don’t know what the total was, maybe it was just when the brothers liked you - you got invited to this, like… _ different _ group. The next level group.”

Mulder was starting to lose his patience with this kid. He was clearly scared, and he clearly wanted to help. But Mulder didn’t want to lose his chance to catch the _ real _ culprits.

“Look, Mr. Rogers, if you don’t want to help us….” Mulder started gathering his things and made his way to the door.

“Wait! I do!” The scared young man was practically pissing himself. Mulder sat back down and waited expectantly. “Ok, so this next level group was on this different dark web site. Like, the _ darker _ web. They told me to dress like a clown and where to go. Like a staging area, in the middle of nowhere. I met this guy there, Greg. He gave me an address and told me to stand outside there, and keep a lookout.”

“Look out for what?”

“I don’t know, like, anyone suspicious or the cops or whatever.”

“Did you know what was going on inside?”

“No!”

Mulder looked at Jay doubtingly. Jay hung his head and changed his answer. “I mean, I didn’t know for _ certain _… but the rumors and stuff… I kinda knew, deep down, what was going on.”

Mulder finished jotting down some notes. “You will work with our technical team to show them where this points system website is.” Jay nodded eagerly. “And you will work with a sketch artist to come up with an image for Greg. And anyone else in the… organization you can remember. We will also need any communications you had, with anyone, about this ‘group.’”

“Will you protect me?” Jay asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Depends on what you give us. You prove to have useful information that helps our case, and we will make sure you are safe. Don’t dick us around.”

Mulder stood to leave. His eyes seemed to connect with Scully’s, behind the one-way glass, even though he couldn’t see her. He turned around and addressed Jay. “What did you guys have planned for Farr’s Corner?”

Jay looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mulder stared at him, hard, but the kid didn’t break. “You didn’t have any… ‘events’ planned for Farr’s Corner?”

“No. They don’t plan these things super far in advance. Like, just one at a time.” 

Mulder stared at the kid for another minute, but got nothing further. He returned to Scully in the observation room. He was surprisingly agitated for just having landed a major break in the case. “He’s low-level. He doesn’t know what this organization is up to,” Mulder grumbled.

“Mulder, it doesn’t sound like we are dealing with the Gambino crime family,” she reasoned with him. “Maybe they really aren’t planning anything.”

“That’s not a risk I want to take right now,” he said, putting a hand protectively on her protruding belly. “We’ll get a hotel room at the place down the street from the Bureau.”

“Mulder, I didn’t bring anything—“

“I’ve got your go-bag in the car.”

“But—“

“Maternity bag. Labor bag. Whatever you want to call it.” He was nervous, and she didn’t want to antagonize him. 

With the case now in the hands of the computer nerds, there was nothing for Mulder to do. He and Scully checked into the hotel. They ordered hamburgers from room service and ate in bed while watching a silly 1950s alien invasion movie. Mulder was able to put the case out of his mind for a little bit. Until, that is, they shut off the TV and settled down to sleep.

Mulder took his position as the big spoon. Because of their size differences, it was always natural for Mulder to be the big spoon; it was almost like he and Scully were designed to fit together this way. But tonight, Mulder really wanted to be the little spoon, to be held and comforted. Instead, his fingers traced lazy circles over Scully’s pregnant belly.

“Do you think I’m being paranoid, making us sleep in a hotel?”

Scully rolled over and caressed his cheek. “A little bit,” she admitted, “but this isn’t the most paranoid thing you’ve made us do.” She smiled to show she was teasing, and he smiled back uncertainly.

“I just… I feel like I have more to lose now than I ever did.” His hands returned to her stomach, rubbing for a minute, then pulling her close.

“You are never going to lose me,” Scully assured him, whispering in his ear. “You are stuck with me. With us.”

Mulder pulled away so he could look Scully in the eye, about to correct her on what he meant. But he saw that sly look in her eye, and kissed her passionately. She returned his kiss with fervor, and soon his hands were not just caressing her belly, but her breasts, her hips, her ass, her mons. She guided him into her, and soon both of them forgot about clowns and paranoia and loss. They reveled in each other, and fell asleep, contented, in each other’s arms.

* * *

Scully was right. They weren’t dealing with some sophisticated crime syndicate with these douche-bros. Just a bunch of kids who had seen _ Natural Born Killers _ one too many times. Their whole criminal enterprise fell apart pretty quickly. The “ringleaders” were a couple of kids who had tried to create their own fraternity of sorts after they were kicked out of the frat pledge process, and then kicked out of college. Anger led them down the rabbit hole of petty crime, which devolved pretty quickly into thrill killing.

It only took two days for the FBI to locate all the idiots behind the Happy Face Murders. These guys were such doofuses, Mulder was almost ashamed that he wasn’t able to figure it out sooner. Much to both his and Scully’s relief, there didn’t seem to be any connection between the Happy Face Murders and the clown that Mulder had seen stalking their house. The two were happy to move back in.

  
Yet Mulder was still on edge. He was _ certain _ he had seen clowns outside the house… hadn’t he?


	4. Act Four

FARR’S CORNER, VIRGINIA

OCTOBER 1

Two weeks had passed since the Happy Face Murders were closed, and Mulder’s paranoia was going back to normal levels. He still kept the doors locked tight, but he wasn’t checking over his shoulder or out windows, either - at least, not more than was usual for him. While Scully was still only teaching part-time, she had convinced Mulder to go back to work full-time. After two weeks with no clown sightings, he finally decided Scully could be left alone in the house. She tried not to be too offended by the overprotectiveness. In her heavily pregnant state, she probably wouldn’t be much use against someone with evil intentions - even with her gun.

The pair settled back into their domestic routine. The baby would be due in just about a month, and Scully was trying to get as much done as possible before she was too tired to move. 

“Oh, before I forget,” Scully said while they were watching television one day, “the doctor has scheduled me for an induction. Are you free on October 31st?”

“Of course, Scully. Aliens couldn’t keep me away--” He froze, mouth agape. “Halloween? You are going to have the baby on Halloween?”

“If all goes according to plan.”

Mulder’s excitement was palpable. “A Halloween baby! We have to redecorate the nursery, do a monster theme. We can paint the walls orange….” His eyes glittered at the prospect.

“Woah. No room in this house is going to be painted orange,” Scully warned. “But we can talk about putting in a few - just a few - monster toys. As long as they are kid-friendly.”

* * *

Mulder and Scully returned from shopping for still more baby stuff. As Scully was unpacking the onesies and bottles, she came across a few Halloween decorations that Mulder had surreptitiously slipped in while she had been examining lactation pumps. She smiled. They don’t generally get many trick-or-treaters out here in the middle of nowhere, but one of the decorations was a window decal of Regan MacNeil, in complete possession face, spewing pea soup all over the place. She knew he bought _ The Exorcist _ decor for her.

“You can thank me for that later,” Mulder said with a wink.

“Gladly,” she promised while stifling a yawn. “After nap time.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead, then thought better of it and gave her a full kiss on the lips. It was passionate, and Scully seemed to be responding favorably to it - then she yawned again. They broke away giggling. “You nap. I’ll take Daggoo for a walk,” Mulder told her.

* * *

It was surprisingly warm for the start of October. Mulder only put on a light jacket for his walk. Daggoo didn’t need one, which disappointed Mulder. He loved dressing up Daggoo; Scully thought it was ridiculous.

“As soon as the baby is born, you are free from my outfits,” Mulder promised the terrier as they headed outside.

They walked in no particular path or pattern. Mulder was happy to follow wherever Daggoo sniffed. He was enjoying the perfectly crisp day, and couldn’t help but daydream about Scully “thanking” him later.

Ahead of them, at the edge of the treeline, Mulder saw the clown again. He was just standing there, ominously framed by the blood-red leaves of the autumn trees. Daggoo growled lowly, but made no move towards the clown, so Mulder followed his lead. He stood there and stared at the clown. 

Several minutes passed. Neither moved. Finally, Mulder spoke.

“Hey there.”

The clown didn’t move.

“Can I help you with something?”

The clown silently beckoned Mulder towards him. _ Just when I thought this bastard couldn’t get any creepier _, Mulder thought. Daggoo started to whimper and actually tried to pull his master towards the clown. “Really, Daggoo?” he grumbled to the pup. Mulder checked his holster; he was armed. “Okay, okay, fine.” Mulder looked back to the clown, still beckoning him forward. “But if I die, you get to explain it to Scully.”

Mulder headed towards the clown, who turned and walked into the woods. He followed silently for several minutes, as the thick foliage blocked out most of the sunlight.

“Where are we going?” Mulder finally asked. The clown stopped, turned around, and stared at Mulder. Mulder shut up and again felt for his gun. He was frightened… but his curiosity was stronger than his fear. He wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with this goon. So he followed the clown without further comment.

They walked. And walked. And walked. After almost a half-hour, the clown led Mulder to a small cavern and motioned for him to enter. _ I’ve come this far _, he thought, and entered - though not without misgivings. He drew his gun before crossing the threshold. 

The cavern was small, and had shelves carved into the stone walls. Lined up on the walls were eggs. Dozens of eggs, all with clown faces painted on them. Mulder recognized this from his clown research. It was an egg registry. In the 1940s, Stan Bult started painting the faces of clowns onto eggs as a way to keep track of the different makeup clowns came up with. The original egg registry was located in the UK, but it looked like this was an “annex,” a small collection of painted eggs.

Mulder walked around, admiring the delicate painted canvases. The clown stood there silently, watching Mulder look at the eggs. He stopped when he came to a gap in the rows of eggs and saw the shattered egg on the ground. Mulder picked up the pieces and recognized the clown painted on it. It was the clown who led him here. 

“I’m sorry about your egg,” Mulder offered lamely. The clown just stared. An uncomfortable silence followed. “Do you… uh… want me to fix it?” A huge grin spread across the clown’s face, which was somehow more unsettling than the sullen face the clown wore. “Okay. Let me go get an egg. I’ll be back.”

Way out here, Mulder was closer to the Keaton farm than his own home, so he went there and requested an egg and some markers. Sarah was happy to help him out, but when he requested a pin to drain the egg, she got a strange look on her face. “Are you going into clowning, Mr. Mulder?”

“Not exactly… why?”

“The egg… the markers… it’s an old clown tradition.”

“You’re familiar with the clown registry?”

“Yes. In fact, Farr’s Corner used to be a clown town.”

Mulder couldn’t help but giggle at Sarah’s rhyme. “Clown town? Tell me more.”

While Mulder carefully cleaned the albumen and yolk out of the egg, Sarah filled Mulder in on the history of the town.

“Yeah, Farr’s Corner used to be home to a small settlement of clowns,” Sarah explained. “You know how there’s that town in Florida where circus people would settle during the winter?”

“Gibsonton, yeah,” Mulder said, remembering his time in the strange little town.

“Well, there were a couple of clowns - I think their names were Minky and Pinky - who didn’t like the sun and the heat. So they came up north, and found this little desolate corner of Virginia. A handful of other clowns joined them, and they formed a little commune up here. I heard a rumor that they had their own egg registry somewhere around here, but never found it.”

“Wow.”

“They didn’t last that long, though. I think they were run out of town when that killer clown hit the news.”

Mulder ignored the misinformed John Wayne Gacy reference, thanked Sarah for the egg, and promised to discuss it with her further over dinner one night. He returned to the cavern, where the clown was waiting patiently for him. Mulder carefully copied the clown’s visage onto the egg, then presented it to the clown for inspection. The clown grinned and clapped excitedly. Mulder turned to place the egg on the shelf. When he turned back around, mere seconds later, the clown was gone.

Mulder dashed to the mouth of the cavern and peeked outside. No clown. He looked down at Daggoo. “You are my witness! Scully will never believe me; maybe she will believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a horror nerd and I have been writing about scary clowns for the last few years. So it seemed fitting that I worked scary clowns into my fanfic. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Artwork by admiralty. You can purchase all the artwork on our [Redbubble](http://www.x-filesseason12.redbubble.com/) page. All proceeds are being donated to Planned Parenthood.
> 
> Thanks for reading Episode Five! We'll be back Friday, Oct 25 at 9:00 EST with Episode Six, our season finale. Follow us [@Season12XF](https://twitter.com/Season12Xf) on Twitter for updates and info!


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